 | Narcissus and Other Poems |  |
163
A HAWKWEED.
Now midnoon through the woodland's leafy screenScarce throws a random ray; the quiet gloom,
Spaced out in beauty and sweet sense of room
By beechen stems and slender tufts of green,
Floats like transparent incense summer-warm
Upon a deep moss floor. The fitful boom
Of swift impatient bee breaks not the charm,—
Yet lacking full completion, till an arm
Of sunlight, pointing, lingers to illume
A starlike weed, which poised in golden grace
Breaks into light—the genius of the place.
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